


Omaha

by landrews



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, F/M, vamp!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landrews/pseuds/landrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thinks if he says it enough, he really won't eat humans anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omaha

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through SPN 6.05, Buffy the Vampire Slayer/S7
> 
> AU from Live Free or Twihard
> 
> WRITTEN for: Last Author Standing - prompt: Endless night - November 2010

 

Dean's in Omaha when he comes face-to-face with the sassiest hunter he's seen in a long time. Her heart thuds hard, but actually slows down when she swings into action, spinning on one foot, kicking the other out straight to take down a vamp with forty pounds on her. She laughs as her arm flashes out and the gleaming blade he can barely follow arcs across the guy's neck and severs his head from his neck cleaner than a butcher chops ribs. Sparks fly up off the concrete. And then she's moving again.

When the second and the third are dismembered corpses, he kicks off the brick wall he's been leaning on and steps into her kill zone. Her skin flattens against her tensing muscles, and her sword and head are turning before he can possibly be visible to her. He stops mid-step, raising his hands up, palms open and flat. She doesn't hesitate.

He ducks, saying “Whoa, good guy here.”

Her blade is at his neck faster than humanly possible. His scalp and balls crawl up. 

“I'll decide that,” she snaps, as her hair settles in dark shadows around her lean face. Although she's standing utterly still, he could swear she's still in motion. Power radiates off her and the musk of her scent makes his mouth water. 

She eyes him, down to his scuffed boots, and back up, pausing on his Dad's old green jacket. It's the warmest one he has, and it's good camouflage in February in Nebraska. Without comment, she reads his face and takes in his military cut, before wandering back down to his eyes and then his lips. 

“Seen enough, darlin'?”

“You're a pretty one, I'll give you that. Shame you're all, y'know, vampy-like.”

Dean swallows. The blade draws blood, and his flinch from it makes the cut deeper. The hunter's hand never wavers. He doesn't know how she knows what he is- he's breathing and everything, using everything he's learned the last four months to hide himself. “I'm not like them,” he says, trying not to move his throat too much. “What are you?”

She cocks her head, her grin lighting up. “I'm a slayer.”

Dean thought Slayers were a myth. She's standing way too close, his head is starting to swim. Her heart, which has been steady as a metronome, picks up its pace. Dean fights his wish to breathe her in, soak in her blood scent. “Not human.”

“Not your average Mary Jo, no.” She presses on the blade, forcing Dean back against the brick behind him. “Why aren't you like them?” she asks, tilting her chin up, which he guesses means the dead vamps. “Besides the fact that you're still standing?”

She's funny. He likes her despite the fact he might be dead momentarily. “I don't go for humans.”

“Ever?”

Dean closes his eyes, remembering that first time that had morphed into more. And then just one more. Until he'd found an herb he could smoke to ease that craving to a level he could deny. It was still there, but if there was only one real lesson Dean had learned in life, it was self-denial. “Any more.”

“Score one for honesty. There's a colony, in Vermont. You're viral, right? Not a demonic vamp? The ashy kind?”

Dean didn't trust himself to answer. He'd heard about the colony, for vamps like him, Bobby had said over the phone. He'd never, ever go there. Vamps were vamps, only two choices, kill them or kill them. He can't get past that, even though he's now a paid-up member and he knows denial can be done. “Just kill me now,” he says.

“Keep your hands up, m'kay?” she breathes, and kisses him with her eyes wide open. 

Her mouth is fever-hot and her tongue skilled. She tastes like she smells, and Dean leans into her, lost in seconds.

She breaks the kiss by shifting her sword, so that the blade bites that much harder. Dean shares her breath while she speaks. “I'm not doing this in public, with bodies, and I'm not taking you back to my place.”

Dean can't believe she's doing it at all, but he wants her. He's so hard he's not sure he can walk. He hasn't had sex since he was turned, it hurts too much, he wants too much, but he thinks he's got it in hand now, or that she can handle him if he doesn't. He just doesn't want her walking away from him until he's tasted her. 

“I've got a car,” he whispers. “Around the corner. Are you sure?”

“That I want to fuck a vamp? Yeah,” she says, eyes sparkling. “It's my kink. Can't do demonics, and virals like you are rare.”

“Why should you believe me?”

“Because I'm still standing.”

Dean leaves Omaha the next morning, with his mouth and veins still tingling. The Impala will smell of Slayer for a month or more, and Dean has one more stone to carry into his endless night.

 


End file.
